


bless the corners and burn the devil out

by Ingi



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Brothers, FiKi Week 2018, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Slash, Separate Childhoods, Strangers, Thorin's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 06:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15237264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: When the King Under the Mountain dies, there is singing.Whether that singing speaks of mourning or celebration, only the singers themselves know.





	bless the corners and burn the devil out

**Author's Note:**

> So today I opened the Word doc with the notes I'd made for this fic and _immediately_ blacked out, and by when I woke up, I had more than 1K words written and they only barely followed my own damn notes. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Still one of my favorite writing experiences, tho!  
>  This is for Tuesday's prompt, "Strangers or Brothers", which of course, me being me, was taken as " **Strangers AND Brothers** ". This is not how prompts work. I know this, and _yet_.
> 
> The title is by Murder By Death, from the song "The Devil in Mexico" (all of the lyrics in the album are amazing, btw).

When the King Under the Mountain dies, there is singing.

Whether that singing speaks of mourning or celebration, only the singers themselves know.

Many remember king Thorin’s strength, and his pride, and the will that saved him and his kingdom from the gold sickness of his line. Others snort at the mention of salvation, and light up a candle for every one of the old king’s sins.

The town is _alight_.

 

 

 

Fíli spends the first few hours of his uncle’s death hiding in a closet.

It’s not a very deep closet, and certainly not very comfortable, despite how valuable the wood is and with how much care the decorations on the outside have been carved. And although it is wide enough for Fíli to take up more space if he wishes to, he squishes himself against the wall to his right and presses his knees against his chest.

He rests his hands on his knees, palms up, and stares at his own fingers. He thinks of what they’ve done, and then of what his uncle’s did, and how he knows much more about it than most, and still he mourns.

Those who say Thorin Oakenshield was never affected by gold sickness are horribly, unforgivably wrong. Whoever Fíli’s uncle had been, he didn’t know him for very long. And the memories are old, and nearly erased by time and experience, and soon not even that will be left, but Fíli _still_ mourns.

What Thorin did to him, what he did to others, he should have never been allowed to. But he was, for the good of the kingdom. Not that it worked. Not right.

And now Fíli is King and he is _alone_.

 

 

 

Kíli is allowed into the palace for the first time since he was a child, and it is only because the man who forbid it on the first place is dead, and it is only to mourn him.

He’s not going to.

He’s been robbed of that, too. Thorin took Kíli’s brother and hid him away, and then turned his back on his own sister and spit Kíli out like a rotten fruit, and now they want him to mourn that dwarf, a dwarf Kíli can never love, a dwarf who never loved him in return.

The palace is huge and feels empty, but Kíli doesn’t think that’s anything new. He isn’t thinking as he walks, he _can’t_ think, and when he hears voices around the corridor, footsteps approaching, it’s instinctive to bolt, because his heart is beating rabbit-fast against his ribs, a symphony of _no no you’re not supposed to be here_ , and it’s too deep and old a chant to ignore.

Even as he closes the door of the closet behind him, he knows that he’s being ridiculous, but it’s too late to do anything about it, because he is hiding in a _closet_ and there is someone else here. And Kíli _knows him_.

It’s a slow realization, because so much has changed, but the dwarf curled up on the ground is light-haired and light-eyed and he’s staring at Kíli with a tear-strained face that is growing paler by the moment. And it’s been years since they’ve been this close, but Kíli’s last memory of this face is, conveniently, of misery and terror. It’s easy to recognize it, then.

His brother is frozen before him, obviously doing the mourning that Kíli can’t bring himself to, and all Kíli wants is turn around and walk out. Except-

They’re strangers, but they’re _not_.

Kíli takes a step forward, feels the moment breaking, and before Fíli can even drawn in a breath, he slids to the ground to sit beside him, arms an inch shy of brushing.

 

 

 

Fíli has been holding back tears since the dwarf walked into his closet, and the urge only got stronger after he realized, incredulous, shaking, of who that dwarf _was_.

And he wants to break, but weakness was never allowed, and it is even less so now. And he wants to touch this stranger, and he wants him to whisper comfort and platitudes, but what he’s really thinking of is a small child with airy laughter and warmth in his eyes, the child who _screamed_ when they were teared apart, and something in the way Kíli holds himself is telling him that the child is dead.

Fíli can’t bear any more mourning.

The silence stretches for a very long time, but in the end Fíli breaks, just as he was trying so hard to avoid, and he forgets about the stranger, and about the child, and he thinks only _Kíli_ and _brother_ and _safe_ , even though he has no reason to.

“He was supposed to live forever,” he whispers, horrified at his own shaking.

“Mahal guard us,” Kíli replies, after a beat, and his voice is bitter but not mean, and he sounds just like Fíli would’ve imagined he would, if he had dared to imagine it at all.

Fíli doesn’t look at him, because he’s done that once today, briefly and behind his own grief, and it was already too much.

“How is mother?” he asks, despite knowing he has no right to.

But Kíli, Fíli can tell from the corner of his eye, is nearly smiling now, although it’s a sad, little thing, and the bitterness has not gone anywhere.

“She’s fine.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Fíli says, and it’s like it’s being ripped out of him, and it hurts just as much, too, and he finally turns his head and Kíli looks- beautiful, and definitely not like a child anymore, and very, very alarmed. “Kee-”

The moment the childhood nickname leaves his lips, he’s blown apart with the shock of how real this is, and how real everything that came before it was. He hasn’t been sleep-walking. This is his _life_.

He bursts into tears, and he makes no sound, but it is still nothing like his earlier loss of control, nothing he has felt in years. And Kíli, Kíli makes a pained sound for him, like he’s been hit, and before either of them can second-guess it, he’s gripping Fíli’s left shoulder and dragging him to himself, pressing him against his own solid body, and Fíli is clinging back with all his strength, and he’s hit once again with a memory, this once of the time they did the very same thing, while much younger but just as scared, and he only clings harder.

“I know,” Kíli is whispering into his ear, tripping over the words as he rushes through them, like he thinks he won’t get the chance to say them at all. “I know I know I know-”

“Kíli,” Fíli mutters, half-laughing in hysteria. “Kíli, he was- but I can’t _not_ grieve, Kíli. I can’t- I miss-”

“I _know_. He was- he was a piece of crap. Mahal, I hated him, Fíli, I _hate_ him, but- you can, you’re allowed to- you can, it’s alright-”

Fíli buries his face in his brother’s shoulder and stays there for a very long time. And when his voice is steady, and he can’t bring forth more tears, he relaxes his grip on Kíli and says, quietly:

“Is there anything left?”

Kíli leans back against him, forehead pressed against the top of Fíli’s head, and doesn’t answer at all at first.

“Yes,” is what he finally says, calmer than Fíli has ever known him to be, and Fíli isn’t quite sure that they’re talking about the same thing, but whathever it is, he’s glad. He’s- _happy_.

And he doesn’t want to let go.

 

 

 

Kíli is tired, and his eyes burn, and he’s just realized that he can’t grieve for Thorin Oakenshield, bastard extraordinaire, but he still has it in him to grieve for what was lost.

It is not a pleasant realization at all.

“Kíli-” his brother- his _brother_ suddenly says, sounding even more tired than Kíli feels. “The palace doors are open, now, at least.”

And he’s pulling away and he’s staring at Kíli, expectant, and Kíli doesn’t understand what he’s suggesting at first, doesn’t _want_ to understand, but-

“I hate this place,” he replies, bristling without meaning to. And as Fíli’s face starts closing off, he adds, feeling his pulse in his throat, “But the doors open both ways.”

Fíli blinks rapidly and smiles, barely there but still moving Kíli like so very few things can.

“Yes. So they do.”

“Ma has missed you,” Kíli says, bold and fearful.

“I’ve missed her, too,” Fíli answers, gazing back at him with soft eyes.

All the things that they won’t say, not now, at least, are like a third heart beating erratically in an undertone.

They walk out of the closet, and without pausing to talk about it, they walk in the same direction, and their steps are synchronized like they used to be, so very long ago. And they walk out of the palace and into the caves where their ancestors were buried, and Kíli takes a step back to walk behind his brother, and he rests a hand on the small of his back and keeps it there, warm and steady, the whole time.

Their people watch them, wide-eyed and still, but their new king is present now, and their old one must be put to rest. They turn their eyes back to the ceremony.

And then, there is _singing_.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to the Hobbit kinkmeme prompt that inspired me to write this! I've been totally unable to find it again, but there's always hope. (Do inform me if you suspect which one it was!)
> 
> Anyways, remember to check out the [lovely tumblr](http://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/tagged/fikiweek2018) organizing these events, and the other fanworks for Fiki Week 2018! <3


End file.
